


Fill my heart with song, and let me sing forevermore

by MemeMachine562



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bird Hybrid Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Blood, Character Death, Death is a main theme, Existentialism, How Do I Tag, Immortal Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Immortality, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Marriage, Minor Original Character(s), Phil Watson-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Someone makes a incorrect assumption about Phil's parents, Techno appears what do you expect, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Video Game Mechanics, Which is kinda hand wavy for child abuse but imma tag it to be safe, no beta we die like men, tell me if I need to add anything!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29853243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemeMachine562/pseuds/MemeMachine562
Summary: It’s first memories were vague, blurred and shaky. It floated in the darkness for quite a while, floated in the light for even longer. Though, floating implies movement, it implies existence. That wasn’t accurate to the early days, it was less of a being and more of a feeling, back then. Scattered thoughts and the smell of starlight, not even half a existence, not yet.If you asked it when it really thought it started existing, it would reply with the first time it heard the voices, two of them. Sounding like everything and nothing, out of tune with the rest of the world yet so familiar.Or; The story of An Angel, loss and the true nature of immortality.
Relationships: Philza/Mumza, Technoblade & Phil Watson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 77





	1. A Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s first memories were vague, blurred and shaky. It floated in the darkness for quite a while, floated in the light for even longer. Though, floating implies movement, it implies existence. That wasn’t accurate to the early days, it was less of a being and more of a feeling, back then. Scattered thoughts and the smell of starlight, not even half a existence, not yet.
> 
> If you asked it when it really thought it started existing, it would reply with the first time it heard the voices, two of them. Sounding like everything and nothing, out of tune with the rest of the world yet so familiar. 

It’s first memories were vague, blurred and shaky. It floated in the darkness for quite a while, floated in the light for even longer. Though, floating implies movement, it implies existence. That wasn’t accurate to the early days, it was less of a being and more of a feeling, back then. Scattered thoughts and the smell of starlight, not even half a existence, not yet.

If you asked it when it really thought it started existing, it would reply with the first time it heard the voices, two of them. Sounding like everything and nothing, out of tune with the rest of the world yet so familiar. 

They spoke to it, whispered words bordering audible, just barely solid. They told it of its existence, that it was real but not quite ready.  _ Wait _ , they murmured,  _ just a bit longer _ .

So it did, it waited and waited. Wondering with half formed thoughts what it was waiting for, what it was supposed to do. But it trusted the Two, believed that everything would be clear, that all it had to do was wait.

Still, it was curious about its eventually, the end goal. If there even was one, waiting implied something to wait for, didn’t it?

It was on a day like any other when it got its wish, sitting in the nothing and listening to silence. The air buzzed with slow energy, humming lowly. They were coming.

A voice drifted to it, One of Two.

_ It’s time,  _ One whispered,  _ for you, little angel, it is time. _

_ For what? _ It thought quietly, for spoken words were never heard,  _ What is it time for? _

_ You have finished waiting, _ The voice sounded almost fond,  _ You are ready. _

_ Ready for what?  _ It was intrigued, something big was happening.

_ The beginning, your beginning, little angel. _

_ Angel, is that me?  _

_ Yes, it is,  _ Two whispered, in their quiet way.

An . . . Angel. Yes, it was an Angel now. It had always been malleable, changing to fit new circumstances, now it was changing again. 

The Angel felt itself forming to the Two’s words, images of angels drifting through its head - knowledge the universe granted it - growing its form around what it had been told it should be.

Eyes, it would need those. It crafted two, colored them the sound of One. Bright and breezy, free and untethered, it had always liked One’s sound. One felt open.

Wings, Angels had wings, didn’t they? It should have wings, the Angel felt two feathered limbs sprout from its back. Formed from the warmth of stars and the cold dark in between them, a swirling feeling in its soul told it these wings were special. A gift from the Two.

It felt at home, cradled by the universe, covered in darkness, but despite it contedness, the Angel was ready to leave. It had stayed in the dark for what felt like countless lifetimes, something new would be more than welcome.

Even as it left, it knew it would have something of its Two, eyes colored One and soul stained with Two’s gentle words. Two sounded like comfort and softness, groundedness and stability. They contrasted each other, movement and stillness.

_ The sky and the grass, little angel.  _ One spoke softly

_ You are born of two worlds, drenched in starlight.  _ Two murmured, thoughtful.

_ Is that good?  _ The angel questioned quietly.

_ Yes. It is,  _ One’s sound echoed through the void,  _ You are something special, little angel. _

Special, it was special, - According to One, at least - it trusted One.

Flexing its new wings, the Angel felt inky blackness slip in between its feathers, staining them a dark grey. Shimmering diamonds the color of stars dotted the largest feathers, a good contrast. They were quite lovely, the Angel was happy with them.

It was an odd feeling, having wings, then again, it had once been an odd feeling to have a body. This was nothing that strange, at least, not in its newness. It knew that it would soon feel like they had always been there. It would, at the very least, get used to them.

There were more important things, however.

_ What do I need to do?  _ It questioned,  _ How do I start? _

Knowledge not its own dripped into its mind, a beginning. 

Reaching into its soul, the angel felt around until it found what it was looking for. A spark, a dot of warmth within the cool surrounding it. It pulled on the spark slightly, till it burst into a flame, then a blaze. Soon the Angel was filled with a inferno, melting the darkness away, but it didn’t burn, only warming the Angel. It felt solid, felt whole for the first time. It was complete.

Slowly fading in came new sensations. Something holding it down, something prickling its arms. It leaned into the feeling, it needed to start somewhere, this was as good a beginning as anything else.

The stars faded into darkness, pools of light draining away.

_ Good luck, little Angel,  _ Two whispered,  _ You will do good, you are a survivor. _

It was real, it was ready. No more waiting.

With that last thought, the Angel felt itself slip into a new form, a new body. One which was much more . . . solid then its previous one. Heavier, in a way. It wasn’t floating anymore, wasn’t drifting. It was stuck to the ground, pushed down by some unseen force.

It looked around, information fell into its head, words given to shapes and colors. Some instinctual knowledge, it was grateful for it.

Trees towered overhead, half dead grass crunched beneath it, scratching at its arms and legs. It ran its hand over the grass, observing the way the stalks bent beneath its hand. The Angel hadn’t had this much control over it’s environment in the void, the darkness hadn’t cared for it, it couldn’t move it if it tried. This was a welcome change for the Angel, it quite liked having influence.

The angel pushed itself up, having to fight against the force. Gravity, its mind supplied, it fought against gravity.

It was odd, borderline unpleasant, having such a solid form. Before, it had been easily changeable, belief led to reality. Now, though, it was stuck, unbendable and firm. It couldn’t change anymore, and wasn’t that a terrifying thought? It had always prided itself on its malleability, it was very sad to see it go.

There was too much locked away inside of the Angel, the stars and darkness that made up its very being unused to being confined, It was unused to being confined. The Angel was freedom incarnate, or it had been. Now it was locked up inside its own body.

It almost thought it would start leaking starlight, everything was so heavy and solid. It was stuck, well and truly stuck. That thought was almost enough for it to wish to be back in the void, almost. 

Because say what you will about the horrid conditions it had found itself stuck in, that didn’t change the fact that the Angel was explorative. It wanted to see everything there was to see, it always had. It was curious and adventurous, and this was one big adventure. It needed to see it through, needed to find the limits of its new form and the limits of its new world.

This was it’s beginning, and it had so much it wanted to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this before the 'Mumza is Death' headcannon became widespread, and now I'm crying because I just HAVE to write something on that but I also have . . . so many other WIP's. I just - I can't - I  
> *Cries loudly and emphatically*  
> If you were wondering, The Two voices are the speakers during the credit scene after you beat the dragon. I'm of the opinion Phil was just like sitting in the end portal, he was just chillin in the credit scene lol.  
> Also, Cannon? What's cannon, current events? Never heard of her. Have more fics set in the past because I am drowning in sweet, sweet denial.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	2. Family and Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Angel was really growing to love the forest. It was so very different from the comfort the Void brought it, but there was something about it. Trees that towered and made it feel small, with long grass rustling in the slight wind and sunlight filtering through the branches, The Angel felt content.
> 
> It was a picture perfect landscape, The Angel almost wished it could save it somehow, keep it with it forever, as it was quite lovely.

The Angel was really growing to love the forest. It was so very different from the comfort the Void brought it, but there was something about it. Trees that towered and made it feel small, with long grass rustling in the slight wind and sunlight filtering through the branches, The Angel felt content.

It was a picture perfect landscape, The Angel almost wished it could save it somehow, keep it with it forever, as it was quite lovely.

The Angel continued its long walk, having no true destination, only wanting to find somewhere to rest for a bit. Unused to having a physical form, it had worn out quite quickly. 

A shine caught its eye, and looking to the source The Angel found a tree ripe with apples. They looked fresh, the bright red drawing its focus. It couldn’t hurt to grab a few, could it? The Angel was a bit hungry, afterall.

Walking towards the tree, The Angel reveled in the way its body responded to it. Back in the void every movement had been slow, like moving through molasses, that was one of the few things The Angel didn’t miss. It was nice, being able to move quicker and make split second turns.

Standing at the base of the tree, The Angel reached up and grabbed the closest apple. It inspected the fruit, before deeming it unsatisfactory. It wasn’t entirely fresh, and there looked to be more ripened fruit higher up, if only The Angel was willing to do a bit of climbing.

Besides that, The Angel really wanted to climb the tree. Something inside it was screaming about getting higher up, maybe that was something that came with the wings? The Angel didn’t really know, didn’t think it mattered.

With a great heave, it pulled itself up into the lower branches of the tree. Bracing itself against the truck, The Angel leapt upwards, flapping its wings slightly as it went. It managed to bypass a few branches with its jump, which counted as a success, but it was quite out of breath. The Angel sat there for a few moments, bent over panting. 

Ender, it was really out of shape, wasn’t it? A few jumps shouldn’t have been so draining.

Shaking its head, The Angel brought its mind back to the task at hand, climbing the apple tree. It pulled itself up a few more branches, passing numerous apples in the process, being a bit too absorbed in climbing to notice. Some instinct had activated, all it wanted to do was get to the very top, apples long forgotten.

It took it only a few more minutes to reach the top most branches, and - yeah, it was worth the climb.

The view was gorgeous, sitting in the treetops. Dust lazily drifted through the air, caught in golden beams of sunlight. The colors were so vivid, almost hurting its eyes with their luster. The ground looked so far away, and The Angel keened slightly, joy overflowing.

Note to self, it really liked being high up. It needed to climb more trees.

Pulling a small branch out of the way, The Angel looked to the sky. It looked like One sounded, bright and bold and free. Blue. It was blue, One sounded blue.

Raising one hand to its eyes, The Angel realized they were likely blue as well. It had made them the color of One, afterall, and One was blue.

The Angel felt its eyes focus on the branch it had pulled aside. Specifically, the leaves on the branch. It plucked one, rubbing the plant between its fingers. Waxy on one side and fuzzy on the other, it was an odd feeling. The leaves felt like Two, grounded and stable. Green, the leaves were green, so was Two.

The Angel face split into a wide grin, it finally had names to put to feelings! That would make explaining One and Two so much easier, though, it doubted it would ever be able to truly explain The Two. The way they were both everything and nothing, how they filled the space but felt empty. Their voices were hollow but strong. The Angel was starting to get the feeling that they were strange, in comparison with its new world. It hadn’t yet felt anything like them, their warmth and their cold, they were unique. That thought only served to make The Angel more excited than before.

It registered to The Angel then, that it was supposed to be picking apples. Casting its gaze around, it found a few nearby, large and vibrant. Reaching over, The Angel grabbed three of them, putting two into its inventory and holding the other.

The apple was heavy, solid and real. Not only that, but it was . . . alive, in a sense. Not in the way that most would consider alive, The Angel knew, but it hummed with energy. A low noise, blending into the rest of the tree. Strings of song that whispered barely there words into its ears.

“Hmmmmmm.” The Angel attempted to match the sound, voice crackling slightly, “hummm.”

It . . . didn’t sound quite right, it was the same pitch, but the hum was out of tune. It didn’t fit together right, it was formless, little more than noise. Shifting so that it could be more comfortable, The Angel looked closer at the apple. Maybe it was going about this wrong, maybe it shouldn’t be using its physical body?

Reaching out towards the apple's energy without moving, The Angel felt around it, and - there!

The source of the noise, in the center of the fruit, a ball of energy.

_ ᒲ╎リᒷᓵ∷ᔑ⎓ℸ ̣ :ᔑ!¡!¡ꖎᒷ _

Yes! That was it! The Angel smiled widely, feeling around the core of the apples being, growing familiar with it, listening to the energy speak in barely understandable words, its mind unconsciously translating for it, telling it how to speak back.

“ᒲ╎リᒷᓵ∷ᔑ⎓ℸ ̣ :ᔑ!¡!¡ꖎᒷ” It hummed out, the words sounding almost musical, much lighter than the apple had sounded to begin with, The Angel knew, but it almost preferred it like that. Lilting and light, it sounded . . . aloof, in a way. 

The Angel felt much more comfortable speaking in those lilting words then the normal voice anyways, Standard sounding harsh and jagged around the edges. This new energy sounded like wind chimes, like a cool breeze on a hot day. Yes, The Angel definitely preferred this new way of talking.

The Angel felt the apple grow louder with its words, matching him. The fruit shined with a new energy, more powerful. Had it done something? Maybe matching the apple had made it stronger. What else could it do?

It reached out towards the fruit again, feeling at the energy singing inside it. The Angel pulled at it, pushing its own shine towards it. It changed the words, changed the tune and the song, just to see what would happen. The Angel paid close attention to the apple, waiting for the change.

It was because of how close it was looking that it noticed when the apple began to glimmer with new luster, red becoming tinted with gold. It was gorgeous, and it spoke of power and life. The Angel was giving the apple more before it even thought about it, feeding the fruit more golden song.

The magic turned from sparks to a gleam, the apple shining with overflowing energy. The Angel kept going, giving more and more, until it began to get lightheaded. It had the sense of mind to stop, then, realizing that exhausting itself to unconsciousness while at the top of a tree was not the best idea.

Cutting off the string connecting it to the apple, The Angel took a minute to collect itself. Mainly because it was on the verge of passing out, black spots dancing in its vision. Ok, so it was never doing that again, at least not to that level.

Once The Angel regained its senses it looked back to the apple, and -  _ Oh. oh. _

The apple was practically vibrating in its hands, fervent energy escaping it and leaking into the air, surrounding it with gold and purple particles. It screamed power, clearly The Angel had changed a bit too much for this poor little fruit to handle. Whoops.

This apple was clearly something new, and while The Angel was unsure what it would do, it didn’t want to waste it by eating it to find out. The apple was strong, and it knew that it wouldn’t be able to make another any time soon.

Just for emergencies, then.

The Angel pocketed the godly apple, feeling the buzz continue even when concealed. Wow, this was really something else! It smiled, pleased, before being brought back to reality. It was sitting on the very top of a tree, and to be frank, it wasn’t sure how to get down.

Frowning slightly, The Angel attempted to measure the distance to the ground, and - yeah. That was fatal. That’s when it remembered, it had wings.

Resisting the urge to facepalm, The Angel spread its wings, admittedly not to sure how they were supposed to work, having done little more than flail them around while climbing the tree. But, well - it had always been adaptable, so maybe -

It jumped off the tree before it had time to really think about it. Instinct had it spreading its wings wide, angling them to catch the breeze and level it out. For a moment, it was reminded of its time in the void, weightless and free. Though, it was clearly flying instead of floating, actively having to fight against gravity to avoid plummeting to its death.

The Angel was ripped from its memory by its . . . less than graceful landing. The harsh impact was jarring, to say the least. Rolling over itself in the dirt, it noted that while it was a natural at flying, it was less so at landing. It supposed that made some sense, there hadn’t been much need to land in the void. 

Huffing, The Angel pushed itself to its feet, brushing dirt from its shoulder as it stood. That could have gone a bit better, though, it also could have gone much worse.

Now, where should it go? The Angel didn’t have any directions, hadn’t been told anything, really. It was able to muster up vague annoyance at the Two for their unhelpfulness, but couldn't stay upset for long. Mystery was much more fun than knowing everything, so it couldn’t get too mad.

Looking around, The Angel decided to feel for energy, that would be the easiest way to find something interesting. It closed its eyes, taking a deep breath, before a whole new world exploded in front of it. A singing world, outlined in energy and whispering to him near silently, it was quite a sight. Though, calling it seeing was a bit of stretch, more like . . . feeling. It could feel the world.

Pushing past the screaming of its godly apple, The Angel listened. It jumped slightly when it registered a nearby hum, sounding like a shining harmony, numerous voices singing together. There was something powerful, something filled with energy. It’s curiosity peaked, it started walking towards the singing.

It was . . . an experience, walking while listening. It could feel every piece of the land, even the air was singing. It felt like walking through a choir, hearing lone songs join together in a lovely harmony, and standing in the middle of it all. The Angel was honestly getting a bit overwhelmed by the sounds, but it was determined to keep listening. It was beautiful, enough so that it was willing to push through the pain to keep hearing it.

The Angel was forced to open its eyes, however, when it reached the louder humming it had earlier heard. Opening its eyes hurt a bit, feeling like walking out of a lake. It could suddenly hear all of the day to day sounds it had missed out on when it was submerged. Not only that, but it was momentarily blinded by the waning sunlight, having grown used to the relative darkness it had experienced when listening.

Looking around now, it realized what the singing from earlier had been. It was in a town, Players fliting around the streets. Players who were practically screaming with energy, almost as much as the godly apple it had made. The Angel could work with this, the sun was setting afterall, it would need somewhere to stay. A village seemed as good a place as any.

Caught up in the singing of the players, The Angel almost missed the Player trying to get its attention, almost. 

“ -xcuse me? Are you alright?” A woman, brown hair with amber eyes, she hummed quietly.

It almost wanted to respond, before it realized it had no clue how to speak her language, not really. It could understand it, but it had never actually spoken Standard.

The Angel settled for nodding at her.

“Are you sure? You look a bit . . . rough.” The woman’s eyes were filled with concern, she was kind, it could feel it.

“El, let it go.” A man previously unnoticed spoke up, “Kid clearly doesn’t wanna talk with us.”

“But Zanl,” The woman - El? - protested, looking at the man, Zanl? “He’s so young.”

And - That was odd, wasn’t it? He? But it had always been malleable, born and built of belief, humanity hadn’t changed that, so - 

He stared at the two, before opening his mouth. He just hoped the words wouldn't come out too strangled.

“I . . . ‘m fine.” He managed, his voice crackling only slightly, the words were a bit slurred, but really, it was a valiant first attempt at speaking.

That didn’t seem to make El feel any better, on the contrary, it only seemed to serve to concern her further. The Angel frowned, that hadn’t been what he intended.

“Are you sure?” She seemed desperate, “Where are your parents?”

“What are . . . parents?” He genuinely asked, but El reacted quite terribly to his innocent question.

“Wha - “ El stuttered, caught off guard “Do you not have parents? Or someone taking care of you?”

The Angel thought about The Two, did they count?

“I . . . ‘ave someone,” He murmured, “Two someone's.”

“Do you know where they are?” Zanl questioned solemnly, “Or, do they know where you are?”

“I know . . . where they are.” The Angel was slowly getting better at speaking, words becoming less clumsy as he went, “They . . . probably know.”

“Did you get separated?” El still seemed worried, her concern practically glowed, “Why aren’t you with them?”

“They . . . dropped me off here.” He spoke slowly, taking care to pronounce everything right, “I finished waiting.”

“You . . . They left you?” El seemed heartbroken, eyes widening, “Are they going to come back?”

“No? Why would they?” He was genuinely confused now, “I’m ready, they said so.”

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Zanl just shook his head sadly, and El seemed crushed, with just a hint of anger.

“Do . . . Do you need somewhere to stay?” El offered, “You could stay with us for the night, it’s getting late.”

The Angel took a moment to consider that, he did need somewhere to rest, and these two seemed trustworthy. They glowed with sincerity, he believed that they meant what they said.

“I . . . Sure.” He nodded to himself, this would work, “I’ll go with you.”

“Good to hear, mate.” Zanl seemed relieved, much more than the circumstances warranted, in The Angel opinion, “We don’t live too far.”

“Oh!” El seemed to realize something, “We didn’t introduce ourselves, did we?”

The Angel just shook his head slightly, was it weird that he had agreed to follow them before he even really knew their names? It sounded weird, in concept, but in execution it worked fine.

“Well,” Zanl started, “I’m Zanl, and that's Elaxi.”

He just blinked at the two, before nodding. He had already picked that up, honestly. Did they really think him that unobservant? Though, it did seem that they thought he was much younger then he truly was. Well, how old was he really? Technically, he was around three hundred years old - counting those spent in the void - but he had only been human for a day.

Maybe he just wouldn’t think about his age, that sounded much easier. Yeah, he was just not gonna think about it.

With that, they set off. As they walked, The Angel let his mind wander slightly, listening to the humming of Elaxi and Zanl. Zanl seemed to sing louder than Elaxi did, he wondered if that meant something. Did Zanl just have more energy than Elaxi? Or was it something else?

He really wished he could ask, but something told him that he might sound a bit insane if he started going on about the way their souls were singing. Just a bit.

It didn’t take too long to get to Zanl and Elaxi’s home, it was as Zanl said, they lived close.

The house itself was . . . homely. Made of oak logs and cobblestone, it seemed a bit hashed together. At first glance, it looked a bit of a mess, but looking closer, The Angel could see more detail. The logs with dashes carved into them - counting something - and the way the stones were so clearly hand cut, it spoke of love. Care and dedication poured into a forever home, so The Angel couldn’t insult it. Not when it was so clearly loved.

“So,” Elaxi gazed at the house with fondness, “I know it’s not much, but what do you think?”

The Angel looked back to the house - no, home - before deciding to answer honestly.

“It’s loved.” His hosts looked taken aback at his blunt answer, before they smiled widely.

“I sure hope it is!” Zanl chuckled, “I spent a whole summer on it!”

“Yes, yes,” Elaxi smiled wryly, her tone light, “I know. You won’t stop reminding me.”

The Angel felt himself smiling alongside them, their joy infectious. Then Zanl seemed to remember something.

“Oh, I forgot to say,” He looked to the cuts in the log, “We ha-”

Zanl was cut off when the door slammed open, The Angel immediately tensed, before relaxing completely upon seeing the person in the doorway. A young girl, with brown hair and excited eyes.

“Dad!” The girl sprinted towards Zanl, “You’re home!”

“Ye - Yeah!” Zanl laughed, before leaning down to pick up the girl, “I am!”

Elaxi must have noticed his confusion, because she turned to explain.

“What Zanl was trying to say was we have a daughter,” She laughed slightly, “That’s her.”

“Oh.” He was still hopelessly confused, might as well ask, “What’s a daughter?”

Elaxi seemed momentarily taken aback, before she laughed lightly.

“Course, you didn’t know what parents were,” She looked over at the girl, “it’s a bit hard to explain, we take care of her.”

“Oh, so like the Two.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could register what he was saying, but he didn’t really regret them, even if he knew she wouldn’t understand.

“The two?” Elaxi was, predictably, confused, “Who are the two?”

“The people who took care of me.” The Angel decided to try to explain them to her, at least the basics, “They’re the ones who put me here.”

“The ones that left you.” Elaxi’s face darkened, why though, he didn’t really know.

“Well, yeah.” He blinked up at her, “I was ready, I couldn’t stay with them forever.”

“It’s jus- it’s not right.” She spoke firmly, “You’re far too young to be out and about by yourself.”

The Angel felt like she was misunderstanding something fundamental, but he really didn’t know how to explain. He wasn’t normal, wasn’t like her daughter in any way. She was a child, he was a being who leaked starlight. The circumstances were different, the connections she was making were misplaced, based off of misinformation. 

How to explain that, was the question.

He was saved from the uncomfortable conversation by Zanl butting in, as he was apt to do.

“What’s going on over here?” He questioned, the girl walking just behind him, regarding The Angel with barely restrained curiosity.

“Nothing, dear.” Elaxi sighed, “It’s fine.”

Zanl opened his mouth to respond, before being cut off by the ball of pure energy standing behind him.

“Enough grown up talk!” She spoke quickly, “Who is this? Is he a friend? What's he doing here?”

“Remember to breath,” Elaxi’s words were tinged with fondness, “And ask those questions again, please, I didn’t catch them.”

The girl seemed to think for a second, before speaking much slower than before.

“Is he a friend?” The Angel was a bit surprised she had opted to ask only one question, but he found himself respecting the question she asked. The only one she seemed to think mattered, he could tell he would like her.

“Yes,” Elaxi huffed a laugh, “He’s a friend.”

That seemed to be all the prompting the girl needed, because she dashed forward and held out a hand. When he just blinked at her, she took the cues that he had no clue what he was supposed to do and told him.

“You’re supposed to shake it.” She informed him, before adding, almost as an afterthought, “It’s a way of saying hello!”

Oh, well, that made sense. In an odd, nonsensical way. He reached out for her hand, grabbing it and shaking it slightly. She giggled a bit, likely at his awkward movements.

“It’s nice to meet you!” She smiled widely, “My name's Kristin!”

The Angel was hardly paying attention to her speaking, though, more preoccupied with the energy practically bursting from her. Just touching her hand was akin to an electric shock half spoken words echoed from her and filled the space.

“You’re filled with energy.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

“Yes, she is that,” Zanl spoke up, entirely misunderstanding The Angel, not that he minded.

“Come on in,” Elaxi waved towards the house, “It’s getting dark out.”

The Angel felt like he should do something, in that moment, there was something he should be doing. These people were helping him, being so kind to him, it was only right to repay them, wasn’t it? That was the polite thing.

But what could he do? He didn’t have much, effects of being born literally that morning, he guessed. He thought on it as they walked in, debating what he could give the people who had been so kind. Then he remembered, he had his godly apple, would that be worth something? He knew it was powerful, but would it be appreciated by these people, leagues less intune with magic then him?

One way to find out, he guessed.

“Uhm, excuse me?” The group stopped at his words, “I - uh, I have something for you.”

“You don’t have to-” Elaxi was halfway through her sentence when The Angel pulled out the godly apple, her words caught in her throat.

It was - even more beautiful then he remembered. A purple shine that whispered safety and luxury, with a golden skin that was cool to the touch. He was almost hesitant to give it away, but these people had done so very much, and had been so kind. It was the least he could do to repay them.

“For you.” He said simply, holding the apple out to the nearest person, Zanl.

“Wha- what is this?” Zanl sounded out of breath, he cradled the apple gently.

And, well, The Angel hadn’t prepared for this. He didn’t really know how to respond, and he doubted that he could get away with saying he had made it. 

“I found it. In a chest.” He murmured, “I think it's called a God Apple.”

“It looks enchanted,” Elaxi spoke softly, “It’s lovely, thank you. So much, this is . . .”

The Angel was really quite relieved, if they hadn’t accepted it he wouldn’t have had anything else to give them.

“It’s the least I can do, you’ve been so kind.” He tucked his wings closer to himself, ducking his head in acknowledgment.

He was taken by surprise when a weight barreled into him, less so because of the actual contact, and more because of the shock of energy that came with it. Kristin, she was . . . Hugging him?

Oh.

The Angel hesitantly hugged her back, wrapping his wings around the girl slightly.

“Thank you!” She chimed, stepping back, “You’re really nice! And you give good hugs!”

“I . . . Thanks?” The Angel was a bit taken aback, Kristin was so . . . alive, alive and real. It was a bit of a shock to his system.

“C’mon, you can sleep in my room tonight!” She grabbed his hand, tugging along down an adjacent hallway, Zanl and Elaxi only laughed quietly behind them, not objecting as he was pulled away, so he guessed it was ok with them.

He almost ran into Kristin when she stopped suddenly, being barely able to stop himself in time. She spun around to face him.

“This is my room!” She dragged him through the doorway, “C’mon, let's go in!”

“Oh - uh, ok-” He managed to stutter out, Ender, this girl was a whirlwind.

Stepping into the room, The Angel found that it was . . . rather normal, in all honesty. Oak planks for the walls and light grey carpet covering the ground, with a red bed in the farthest corner. It was quite humble, but homely. The air was warm and comfortable, and the bed was piled high with blankets and pillows, with a few stuffed animals scattered about.

“Here!” Kristin dashed over to the bed, before pushing most of the blankets off of it and onto the floor, “We can have a sleepover!”

And . . . The Angel had no clue what any of that was, or why she had just shoved over blankets off the bed. He decided that asking was probably a good idea.

“Uh, sleepover?” He questioned, “What’s that?”

“You don’t know what a sleepover is?” Kristin seemed scandalized by that, gasping loudly, “That’s horrible!”

“Sorry?” He was so out of his depth, 

“No, you don’t have to be sorry,” A determined light entered her eyes, “I’ll teach you! We’re gonna have the best sleepover ever!”

She ran over to where he was still hovering in the doorway, grabbing his wrist again and pulling him further into the room. The Angel found himself once again taken by surprise, unprepared as he was for the shock of energy she brought with her. He would need to ask about that.

“So!” Kristin flopped down on the mass of blankets,” C’mere! I’ll show you how to sleepover!”

“O - kay?” The Angel slowly sat down next to her, the blankets were really quite comfortable.

“To make it simple,” Kristin started, “A sleepover is just hanging out! But you get to hang out all night!”

“That sounds pretty simple,” He found himself smiling, Kristin’s enthusiasm was infectious, “Is that all?”

“Pretty much,” Kristin giggled, “The main thing is to have fun!”

“I can do that,” The Angel was pretty sure that was manageable, “How do we do that?”

“We . . . uh, just kinda talk?” Kristin smiled, “How are you doing?”

“Good,” He spoke quietly, “You?”

“I’ve been good!” Kristin grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, “Thanks!”

The Angel didn’t see much point responding to that, only nodding at her. His vocal cords were getting a bit sore, what with how new he was to speaking.

“Oh, I just realized!” Her eyes widened, “I forgot to ask for your name!”

Well, he couldn’t say he hadn’t seen this coming.

“Well . . .” The Angel was hesitant, “I was always called The Angel?”

“The Angel?” Kristin seemed confused, and slightly affronted, “That’s not a proper name!”

“It isn’t?” He had suspected that, having heard other names from her family.

“No, it’s not!” She suddenly started smiling, “I know! I’ll give you a name!”

“Oh - Ok.” Maybe a name would help him fit in better? Was that his goal?

“Hmmmm.” She seemed deep in thought, “Any starter ideas?”

The Angel thought on that, what did he think he should be called? He reached into his soul, feeling for what it spoke of, maybe he could just use that?

_!¡ꖎᔑ||ᒷ∷ _

Player? Well, if that wasn’t entirely predictable. Also not something he could use as a name, maybe something based off that?

“Something with a P?” He spoke up, “That feels right.”

“A P huh?” Kristin squinted her eyes at him, “How about . . . Phillip? No. too boring.”

The Angel was content to let her sit there and think, finding amusement in the random sounds she put after P, she seemed pretty set on Phil something.

“Phila? Philza?” She shot up, eyes sparkling, “Philza! That’s it!”

The Ang - no, Philza - nodded. That name sounded good, as good as any, at least.

“Cool!” Kristin’s eyes sparkled, “Philza! That’s such a cool name!”

Maybe . . . he could ask.

“Uh - Kristen?” She hummed in question, he steeled himself before continuing, “Do you . . . know what the . . . whispering is? Like around you guys, I can hear whispering.”

“You can?” Kristen looked delighted by that, her eyes sparking with glee, “That’s the code!”

“Uh, what’s code?” Philza really hoped this wasn’t another one of those concerning questions, that it wasn’t common knowledge. It seemed fate had taken mercy on him, because Kristen didn’t stop to question him, just started explaining.

“The code is . . .” She seemed to be searching for words, “It’s what makes up everything!”

“Oh,” Philza supposed that made sense, it would explain a few things, for certain.

“Did that help?” Kristen leaned forward a bit, “I’ve never been the best at explaining things.”

“Yes, it did.” Philza smiled slightly, Kristin was growing on him, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” She then pulled a clock out of her inventory, blanching when she saw the time, “Ender! It’s gotten late, we have to go to bed now.”

“Bed?” Philza questioned.

“Yeah, bed.” Kritstin put her clock away, before flopping down onto the blankets, “Like, sleep?”

“What’s sleep?”

“Wha -” Kristin shot up, staring at Philza with shock, “You’re serious?”

“Uh, yeah?” Philza felt like he was missing something, “What am I supposed to do?”

“Well,” Kristin started, some of the shock fading away, “You close your eyes, and sit really still. Then you’ll fall asleep. That gives you your energy back! You need to sleep to survive.”

“Oh, ok.” Philza laid down hesitantly, Kristin doing the same.

He honestly lost track of how long he sat there, eyes closed, but he knew it had been awhile. He was really trying to sleep, but everytime he got close to the thing Kristin had described he got surprised, and jolted back awake. It was actually rather annoying.

After another little bit, he sat up, giving up on it. Philza let his mind wander a bit, before closing his eyes to listen.

It was comfortable, falling into that half aware state. Turning his senses over to Kristin, he was again surprised by the level of energy that flew from her. She felt like the sun, musical tunes flowing from her and surrounding the room. 

Wow.

Something else caught his attention, though, pulling him away from the portable sun next to him. It was his own energy - code - he had felt it, briefly when he had searched for his own name, but looking at it again, he was shocked by the stark difference between him and Kristin.

Where Kristin was a sun, he looked like the moon. Still bright, but different. Cooler and more concentrated. It was deliberate, someone had made him with a specific end goal, Kristin seemed much more . . . erratic. Natural, she looked natural, where he looked produced.

He . . . wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Philza opened his eyes, barely able to suppress a flinch at the returning sensations. Little noises that had been muted before, the creaking of the trees outside, the whistling of the wind, they all sounded so loud after a time spent without.

With a light sigh, Philza laid back down, maybe he would give sleeping another go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bro, I sat down and suddenly this was in my Google Docs, how did I even. Huh?  
> For anyone wondering! Zanl seems to have more energy then Elaxi because Zanl has two lives, while Elaxi's only got the one. Kristen has all three, plus she's young and healthy, hence the overload of energy comin from her!  
> Can you tell how much I ship these two? They're the only hets I respect, my faith in love was restored by them. If I wasn't AroAce they'd be life goals.  
> On a unrelated note, why are MCYT character tags so trash? Phil's is literally just his name, Kristin's is her entire name, including her middle one, and Techno straight up has three of them. Don't even get me started on Skeppy and Bads, I swear.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. Downtrodden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil was actually in quite a good mood - despite the omnipresent soreness that came with travel - the sun was shining, the wind was whistling, all the makings for a wonderful day.
> 
> Not only that, but he was finally going home. 

Phil was actually in quite a good mood - despite the omnipresent soreness that came with travel - the sun was shining, the wind was whistling, all the makings for a wonderful day.

Not only that, but he was finally going home. 

He had already been away for much longer then he had meant to be, what had been a short trip to try out hardcore turned into a whole world. He still had it going, something that would never cease to shock him, really, he had thought that he would have died a week in. He had to head back home though, he had gotten a message from Kristin, she said she had something important to tell him. 

He really hoped it wasn’t something bad, and was choosing to stubbornly hold onto hope that it would be a good thing, the mild anxiety that came with those thoughts were the only thing dampening his good mood.

As he walked through the entrance gate to his town, Phil was taken aback by how large it had grown. The once small town had turned to a bustling metropolis, people flit around the roads, waving and smiling. It seemed that the good mood was widespread, Phil smiled to himself.

He headed towards his old home, waving to people as he went. He had really missed his family, he didn’t like being away from them for as long as he had been. They had taken him in when he was first spawned, gave him shelter and taught him how to be a player. He would never forget everything they had done.

And Kristin . . . She had done so much. Phil wouldn’t have turned out nearly as human as he did without her, teaching him the basics and dragging him through life by the hand. Ender, she gave him his name. 

Phil found himself blushing slightly, he coughed into his arm in some futile attempt to hide it. 

It was, in retrospect, quite the odd name. He still liked it, though, it brought up memories of his first days, and the warmth and acceptance that came with them.

He kept walking through the town, marveling at the large buildings as he went. Giant structures made of stone bricks instead of cobble, oak planks instead of logs. Things had certainly grown while he was gone, he almost felt out of place. Phil quickly shook those feelings off, of course he belonged, this was home!

It didn’t take long for him to arrive at his house, and he would forever deny the way his heart rate spiked when he saw Kristin waiting for him on the steps.

“Kristen!” He called out, smiling widely, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Right back at you, Phil,” Kristin smiled, but something was off about it, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. The anxiety from earlier slowly crawled back up his throat, he dropped his hand back to his side, moving closer to the house. Kristin didn’t stand to meet him, staying glued to the stairs, as if she couldn’t bring herself to move.

“Is something wrong?” Phil was really concerned, now, “Did something happen?”

“Yes,” She seemed on the verge of crying, “Everything’s gone wrong.”

That . . . wasn’t good. Not at all, Phil suddenly felt very protective, he needed to help her. But first, Phil held up his arms for a hug - he had always been told his hugs were amazing - and Kristin looked to be in desperate need of a good hug.

Kristin surged forward in one movement, Phil almost fell over from the force of the impact, but managed to stabilize himself with a few wing flaps. He wrapped his wings around her, shielding her from the outside world in a cocoon of feathers and warmth.

“I’ve missed you, Phil,” Her words were watery and cracked.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, taking in the comfort the other provided, before breaking apart at last.

“Kristen,” Phil spoke gently, “What happened?”

“I - It’s . . . “ Kristin seemed to be searching for the right words, “I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning seems like a good place.” He was rewarded for his efforts by a watery chuckle, he’d take it.

“Mom - Elaxi died.” She spit out all at once, dropping a bombshell, “She vanished into the woods, no one . . . no one knows what happened to her, but she never came back.”

Phil could hear the words she wasn’t saying, _ she never came back _ \-  _ she wouldn’t just leave, so she must be dead,  _ and he mourned.

Elaxi, kind, genuine Elaxi had died, and he hadn’t even been around to hear about it. Hadn’t been there to comfort Kristen, had probably missed the funeral. Phil felt a bit like crying, at that moment.

“Oh, Kristen,” He starts, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s hardly your fault,” She smiled weakly, before any trace of joy drained from her face, “That isn’t all.”

Oh, Ender, not more.

“Dad is sick, really sick.” She folded in on herself slightly, wringing her hands as her shoulders crumpled.

“Doesn’t he have two lives still?” Phil couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he vaguely registered that he was likely in shock.

“He did, but the sickness took one,” Kristin starts tearing up a bit, “It didn’t go away with respawn, and . . . I don’t think he’s gonna make it out of this one.”

With those words, her composure snapped, and she started crying in full. Phil didn’t hesitate to hug her again, fighting back tears of his own. He had only been gone a year, how had so much happened? How had so much gone wrong? It didn’t feel real, didn’t feel true.

“Money’s been hard,” Kristin didn’t move to break the hug, “Dad is too sick to work, and I have to stay home to take care of him.”

“I - I’m so sorry,” Phil spoke softly, “I shouldn’t have left.”

“No,” Kristin moved away, wrapping her arms around her middle, “You couldn’t have stayed. I know you, Phil, you have the wilds in your heart. You would have been unhappy here.”

“Well,” Phil couldn’t dispute that, “I’m staying now. I can hardly leave, can I?”

“I - Thank you,” Kristin smiled genuinely for the first time since he had seen her, “That would really help.”

“Of course.” Did she really think he would leave?

“C’mon, let’s head inside. Dad . . . he’ll be happy to see you.”

As they headed in, Phil couldn’t stop thinking, even as they talked to Zanl - and what a horrifying sight that was, the man so clearly sickened, emancipated and pale - Phil couldn’t stop thinking. Everything was happening so fast, too fast, almost fast enough that he would call it intervention instead of poor luck. And maybe it was, what with his spawning circumstances, he did wonder what interest The Two would have in ruining his life, though. He doubted it was intentional, if it was them.

But that wasn’t all, the main thing preoccupying his thoughts - something he had planned to tell Kristin about, but felt like poor timing now - he had finally figured out what was different about his and Kristin energies, why his felt so produced. It had taken a lot of searching, diving through old texts and stronghold libraries - even a bit of searching through End Cities - but he had found it. A vague description of The Two, and stories about Players who matched his situation. He wasn’t sure he liked what he had found, wasn’t sure what it meant for him, and for those he cared about.

Because according to the books he had found, he was likely immortal. Functionally, at least, he would live until killed. He had been overjoyed, at first, who didn’t want to live forever? It even made a bit of sense, explained some things, made other’s obvious. Like the fact that he could run without sleep for days at a time, or that he didn’t need as much food as the rest of his family did.

But then it had occurred to him, Kristin wasn’t immortal, neither were Elaxi or Zanl. He had thought he had come to terms with that, accepted it, but he hadn’t been even slightly ready for it to happen. Elaxi . . . She was dead, no way around it, and Zanl wasn’t far behind her. 

He . . . wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I took a perfectly good character and gave him existential dread, Phil, I am so sorry.  
> Also, I've come to the conclusion that spelling is a societal construct. So if you see a spelling error, no, you don't.  
> Names are so difficult, I'm still not sure how to spell billum - billiam? billiam? Fancy pig man - and I've just found out I've been spelling Kristin - god damned Kristen why did I spell it Kristen just kill me now - wrong this whole time. I'm gonna throw my computer out of the window, shortly followed by the dictionary and then whoever invented language.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Forget me not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil really should have seen this coming.
> 
> There was no excuse, it had been an eventuality, one he should have prepared for. But he hadn’t, had chosen to hold onto the false notion that this day would never come, which only made its final arrival all the more painful.

Phil really should have seen this coming.

There was no excuse, it had been an eventuality, one he should have prepared for. But he hadn’t, had chosen to hold onto the false notion that this day would never come, which only made its final arrival all the more painful.

So as Phil sat there, dressed in mourning black and cradling his marriage ring gently, he had no one to blame except himself.

Because even though he was well aware of Kristen's mortality, how he had to put effort into ageing alongside her, he had pretended that he would never lose her. That she would somehow be able to beat death, just to stay with him.

What a fool he was.

He had stuck his head in the sand for so long he had been unable to hear the water rising, now he was drowning. Alone. He was alone, it didn’t feel real. Like it was some odd dream, surely he would wake up at some point soon. Because this couldn’t be real, couldn’t be his life, he  _ couldn’t be alone _ .

And that was truly what he was, alone. Standing in a crowd, Phil had never felt more separated, more solidary.

He could only stare numbly at the place where the love of his life was being buried, half wishing he could go down with her.

He quickly cut off that dangerous thought, shoving it away from his mind.

It would be no good to anyone to give up, Kristen wouldn’t have wanted him too. Feeling too cold to cry, a frigid ice spreading over his mind, shutting down. He was shutting down, and he knew it, almost making it worse. Feeling himself fall away but not being able to do anything, he couldn’t bring back the dead, afterall, there was no way to save her and there was no way to save him. He was a lost cause now, he knew.

Phil was stuck, there was no good ending, no happily ever after, not for him. All he got was a looping film, no finish line to reach, just an endless race against no one. He was the only one running.

He . . . wasn’t sure how to cope with that.

How was he supposed to cope with the truth of his very existence? He was being shown that it was hopeless, Phil was beginning to believe it. How could any of this lead to a happy end? He was alone, with his wife six feet down and his children long past matured. They didn’t need him anymore, hardly ever messaged him, busy with their own things. He hadn’t heard from them in months. He . . . he would have to tell them their mother was dead, wouldn’t he?

Pushing down the tears that rose at that thought, Phil tried to refocus on something else, anything else. He wouldn’t need to age anymore, would he? He had only been aging to keep up with Kristen - he hadn’t wanted her to leave him behind - there wasn’t much point to that anymore.

With a heavy sigh, Phil reached into his being and snipped the thread he had been carefully keeping connected. He could feel his very essence shift, after, could feel the way his body just . . . stopped. Frozen in place, stuck in time, unable to move on. It was so similar to his mental state that he had to hold in a broken chuckle, finding the irony quite amusing.

His code had turned cold, no - corrupted. Jagged and static filled, nearly impossible to get a good read on, his emotional turmoil had almost completely broken him. He started the slow process of piecing his mind back together as the funeral progressed, it didn’t take nearly long enough to finish.

With a low sigh, Phil pulled his mind back to the present, no more distractions available. He was supposed to speak at the funeral, he knew, but . . . he had no clue what he would say.

He had no way to describe the depths of his love for Kristen, couldn’t tell of the way his heart had been plunged into ice water at her death, couldn’t . . . 

He just couldn’t.

She had died so young, fell victim to the same disease that had taken her father. Phil had known they wouldn’t have forever, but he had hoped they would have a bit longer then what they ended up getting. They had only been married a short time, and Phil would have given anything to have just a bit more time with her. More time to be happy, but nothing he could do would have any effect.

All he got was months of pain, of watching her slowly decay as the sickness ate away at her. He had hated it then and he hated it now, knowing that his happy memories of her would forever be overlaid by the image of her broken and dying, the light long since drained from her eyes.

Phil saw people walk up onto the small stage erected in the middle of town - specifically used for funerals - people who had hardly even known Kristen speaking about how her loss was so impactful. It made something ugly curl in his stomach, and as he pulled his wings tight against his back he was half tempted to go up there and slap the fake frowns off their insincere faces, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t ruin the funeral,  _ he couldn’t. _

It was a few people before his turn when he realized something, he didn’t think he could speak up on that stage. A stage tainted by lies, a stage which brought with it some sense of finality. And though Phil was well past denial - Kristen was  _ dead, _ there was no changing that - he couldn’t bring himself to make it real. 

So, with silent footsteps long ago trained to be swift and fast, he fled. Melting into the crowd and moving away from the gathered mourners, he left before the funeral ended. And though something inside him screamed at the injustice he was performing - leaving in the middle of her funeral? Why  _ would you do that how could you _ \- he knew that Kristen wouldn’t have wanted him to stay if it hurt him, and it did hurt. It hurt worse than any pain he could imagine.

Now, standing outside the town in his mourning clothing - a black veil covering his face that obscured his eyes - Phil realized that he no longer had anything left to stay for in that town, so he kept walking.

And The Angel never returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Scuttles out of looming cave, drops nearly 10,000 words worth of fic at your feet, scuttles away again*  
> But really, that's the strat. You gotta write all the fic at once then post it all at once. That way there's no obligation, if you get bored of a fic 5,000 words in, well damn, you don't gotta do that one. No ones disappointed because no one knew it existed. It's flawless.   
> I wrote like 1/10 of a fic on Wattpad then immediately fell out of the fandom I was writing for and I was traumatized. I have never recovered and I will never do it again, this is the only full proof way of avoiding it, I'm tellin ya.  
> Really, the only reason I use chapters is because I know it's nice to have pitstops, somewhere to take a break and separate the fic. To all my low attention span siblings out there, I got you fam.  
> ALSO ALSO, everyone needs to go check out TheChannelWithoutAName on youtube, because they recently released a animatic called Forget Me Not and I am obsessed. I have many feelings about it, so now you have to go have feelings as well, then we can cry in harmony and die inside as one.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	5. A New Start, Never to last (Good Enough for Now)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a day like any other, in more ways than just it’s blandness. Phil couldn’t count the number of days he had had just like this one, mainly because he couldn’t be bothered.
> 
> He was walking through a graveyard, more specifically, his graveyard. Filled to the brim with people he had loved and who he couldn’t save. It was routine by now, walking past the graves and leaving singular flowers on each grave, checking to make sure none had fallen over. Though, routine implied a set time and day, of which there was certainly none.

It was a day like any other, in more ways than just it’s blandness. Phil couldn’t count the number of days he had had just like this one, mainly because he couldn’t be bothered.

He was walking through a graveyard, more specifically, his graveyard. Filled to the brim with people he had loved and who he couldn’t save. It was routine by now, walking past the graves and leaving singular flowers on each grave, checking to make sure none had fallen over. Though, routine implied a set time and day, of which there was certainly none.

Hell, Phil wasn’t even sure what day it was. Monday or Wednesday? Or maybe Tuesday, though it could also be Saturday. He just  _ didn’t know.  _ Everything had blended together, nothing changed and he almost didn’t want it to. He had found some form of comfort - warped as it was - in the monotony of life.

Maybe it was concerning, the lack of awareness, because now that he thought about it Phil couldn’t put a finger on the month either, and what year was it?

Shaking his head slightly, Phil decided to put those thoughts behind him, or more accurately, let them sit in his head - floating around - until he forgot that he had ever thought them in the first place. He had been forgetting a lot, recently, less so because of any medical reasons and more because he didn’t care to remember.

There wasn’t a point to hold onto the past, it wasn’t like he could return to it, and he had such a long future he still needed to get through. There were more important things than a few half solid memories.

It had gotten so bad that Phil found himself forgetting who some of the gravestones belonged to, and . . . yeah, that wasn’t good. A wave of diluted panic ran through him at that realization, before it faded beneath a layer of apathy. So what if he forgot some of them? It wasn’t like they were around to get mad at him for it. If they wanted to be remembered so badly, they shouldn’t have died, shouldn’t have left him. Ender, they shouldn’t have gotten close to him in the first place.

Getting close to him was nothing more than a death wish, because Phil had figured it out, finally realized why he seemed so cursed - when everyone around him died gruesome deaths young, he couldn’t help but wonder - he hated the answer.

It was something he had pondered for years, how had his mind survived as long as it had? Because even with a body lasting eternal, the mind keeps no such promise. It decays with sands of time, he should have gone insane long ago, but he hadn’t. There was an answer he honestly wished he had never found.

Quite a long time ago - so long ago Phil could only barely remember it - in a spiral of maddened grief, he had searched through his libraries again, he hadn’t found anything. But then, searching through his soul, he had found something. A line of code that explained everything and nothing, just another dooming quality.

A creeping decay, designed to leech the lifeforce of others and give it to him, all to keep Phil alive and sane.

Phil had even gained the moniker ‘The Angel of Death’ for the misfortune that he brought wherever he went, though most thought him little more than a fairy tale, who wouldn’t? A winged man in black clothes and a veil who carried death with him, it sounded like a folk tale. Something parents would tell their children to keep them from misbehaving. But as the subject of said story, Phil knew that he was real. At least, he thought he was. He could never be quite sure anymore. 

Hell, half the time he wasn’t even sure if his body was really his. He walked through his days in a haze, doing little more than surviving. Because that’s what he did, survived, he was the survivor - it was what he had been built for - he had little choice but to survive. 

Phil could feel himself spiraling, he knew it was happening but was without a way to fight it back, he was staring into his own abyss and was forced to sigh and bear it. And wasn’t that just a great way to describe his life? Looping days and unavoidable loss with no solution, no way out. It was just how it was - he was doomed to repeat, over and over and over -

Phil did the mental equivalent of blacking out, his eyes unfocused as his mind stilled completely, fried. He stood there for a few minutes, only half aware - half alive - as he waited to stabilize.

Phil came back to himself in one swift moment, the feeling jarring and broken. He sighed heavily, ender, he really needed to fix up his code, it was starting to corrupt and glitch. It was clear that it hadn’t been built to last quite this long, he had to suppress a snort at the thought that he was outliving the expectations of an immortal being. Just too good at surviving, he was.

Phil leaned down to pick up the flower he had dropped when he glitched, cradling it gently. It was dirt flecked and half decayed, having lived out its admittedly quite short life. Maybe if he hadn’t picked it, it could have survived longer, could have lasted. As it was, Phil could feel it dying in his hands, his decay leeching the life from it.

Ender, he couldn’t even keep a flower alive.

It was then that he heard it, the crunching of footsteps. Was someone in his graveyard? That was odd, Phil turned towards the source of the noise, only to find a sight that would have filled anyone more human with fear.

There was a young boy - hardly sixteen, if Phil had to guess - leaning against a nearby grave. It didn’t seem he had noticed Phil yet, too caught up with himself. He wore a long red cape that dragged along behind him - clearly too big for him - and a crown sat lopsided on his head. Despite the royal status his crown and cape spoke of, the rest of his clothing were . . . almost bland. Pure black with a smattering of grey, it was hardly eye catching.

That wasn’t what would make the boy frightening though, no, what accomplished that were the splatters of still fresh blood and the look in his eyes. Half mad and bright with delirium, his pupils dilated to little more than pricks.

“Hey, mate,” Phil spoke quietly, not surprised when the boy flinched, “You alright?”

“Wha - you -” The boy was cut off by a coughing fit, his voice cracked and horse, “How long have you been there?”

“A lot longer then you have,” Phil had to resist the urge to smirk at his inside joke, “You’re just not that observant.”

“Extenuating circumstances,” The boy murmured, his pride clearly wounded, “I’m a bit distracted.”

“I can see that,” he nodded towards the boy’s . . . everything, he looked a right mess, “That blood yours?”

The boy seemed to stop to consider, his eyes narrowed as he looked closely at Phil. He seemed to find what he was looking for, because his eyes became slightly less guarded.

“No,” He reached up to wipe a bit of blood off his face with his sleeve, only succeeding in smearing it, “It isn’t.”

“Good,” That was a relief, “Don’t need you bleeding out in my graveyard.”

The boy seemed surprised by his answer, if his widened eyes and shocked look meant anything.

“This is - it’s your graveyard?” His eyes were fixed to Phil, waiting for an answer.

“Yep,” Phil nodded, “Built it myself.”

“But - This place is practically a urban legend!” The boy spluttered, “A ghost story! No one comes here.”

“Well,” Phil hadn’t known that, though he supposed it made some sort of sense, “You're here, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah -” The boy cut himself off, seeming to realize something, “You said you built this, but it’s been here as long as anyone can remember, at least a few hundred years.”

Phil could hear the unasked question, he decided to answer.

“I’m just old,” He replied, “Been around here a long time.”

“Ok, sure,” The boy’s shock melted into something like exasperation, “This might as well happen, are you dead? Like, a spirit?”

Phil could tell he was going to like this kid, anyone who could brush off his existence was something special.

“Not quite,” Phil chuckled lightly, but there was no mirth in the noise, “But I’m not quite alive, either.”

His answer didn’t seem to phase the boy, he just shook his head a bit, as if trying to get rid of a particularly annoying fly. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Phil spoke into the relative silence, “You ok?”

“I - not really.” The boy hung his head, his pink hair curtaining his face.

And in that split second, Phil saw it. The hunted look in the boy’s eyes and the way his hands twitched with barely restrained energy, he saw them. And for just a moment, Phil felt his own special sort of muted concern wash over him, because this boy was clearly not alright - he needn’t have asked - and Phil felt the easily deniable urge to help.

And for the first time in quite a while, Phil didn’t deny the urge. Because in that split second, Phil had seen himself in the boy's glassy eyes, had seen the pain and the loss he had become so familiar with, and he didn’t want it to ruin this boy like it had ruined him.

So when he spoke, it was with the gentle warmth of a player, not the ambivalence of an angel. When he spoke it was the soft, caring words of a dead man, long past decayed, a skin he had shed centuries earlier. Filled with promises of safety that he knew would be broken, but brought with them some deluded form of comfort.

“What’s your name, mate?” He asked quietly.

“Technoblade,” He seemed to consider Phil once again, “But you can call me Techno.”

“Alright, Techno,” It was quite a lovely name, “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“No.” The answer was blunt, emotionless and vague.

And Phil really didn’t want to get attached, because nothing good happened to those who cared for him, but something in him rebelled against the idea of leaving this boy alone in the night.

“Well I do,” Phil offered, “I wouldn’t mind you using it for the night.”

Techno looked cautious for all of a second, before his apparent tiredness won over and he nodded.

“All right . . . “

“Philza, but you can call me Phil.”

“Alright Phil,” Techno straightened up slightly, “But I’m going to go in the morning.”

Phil doubted that, for some reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND WE DONE BOIS  
> I live for Baby Blade, because he is 20% more emotive and also 20% more horrified by Chat and blood. My mans gonna get desensitized as he grows up but right now he little more than child, baby boi who thinks himself a monster. How cute.  
> Now, onto my next Fic, breaks? What're those, did you mean to say 'married to the grind'? Cuz that's what I am.  
> Can you tell that it's 3 AM, because it is, and sleep deprivation makes me loose lipped, but much funnier. Equal trade off.  
> Hope you enjoyed me traumatizing a perfectly stable man! See ya next time nerds.  
> Edit: I JUST WATCHED THE NEW TALES OF THE SMP. GOD DAMMIT KARL, I'M OVER HERE, TRYING TO WRITE THIS ONE SPECIFIC FIC. THEN IN YOU COME, WITH COMPELLING PLOT AND A APPARENTLY - WHAT - IMMORTAL CONNOR? TIME TRAVLER, OUT OF TIME? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME. I'M - I AM TRYING - YOU!  
> NOW I GOTTA WRITE SOMETHING ON CONNOR.


End file.
